Dear Idiot
by MazaiPanda
Summary: "Well, see, Alfred, I didn't write this letter just to be mean to you on your birthday. Well, that was my intention at first, but... just calm down about it, okay?  And just know, that no matter how much I yell and nag and how ignorant you are..."


**A/N: Heyyyy. Okay so as you read this it seems mean but it has a nice ending! I promise! It's just England being a grumpy, adorable jerk on America's birthday. :3 Which I know was a long time ago... I actually wrote this months ago and never had the chance to upload it. It's sort of US/UK, too. And it's supposed to be funny so please laugh. Or you'll make Iggy cry! :'(**

**Enjoy! And reviews are love and happiness. 3**

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_Dear idiot,_

Today's your birthday, I presume. Not that I mark it on my bloody calendar or anything sincere of the sort. I don't need to when you remind me, along the rest of the world, about it at least five times a day, beginning a month prior to your oh-so-special day. Now, since you wouldn't allow me to forget and give you the more comforting excuse of, "Oh, my apologies, Alfred, I seem to have forgotten..." you leave me no choice but to deliberately ignore you all day. No, I'm not coming to your party, and no, I didn't get you any presents. I'm not even going to tell you, "Happy Birthday."

I'm sure you understand why. No, it's not because you are an obnoxious, nosey, loud, gluttonous twat who tends to only care for his own well-being and whose overconfidence and idiotic antics torment the other nations like some sort of plague. That is only half of the reason. To help that incompetent brain of yours (if you even have one) grasp a tiny bit of my reasoning, I have made it as simple as possible. I took the liberty of comprising this list:

_**~Arthur's Seven Reasons for Avoiding Alfred, Especially on His Birthday~**_

_**1.)**_ Every time my birthday pulls around, you never fail to pester me with your agonizing presence, no matter how many repelling spells I cast... I MEAN how much I yell at you to stay away. Although, that's not what you call it. Every year, you storm into my house, whether I open the door for you or not(I'll have you know, breaking and entering is a crime punishable by law. You should be thanking me for not turning you into the authorities, you incompetent git.). Present? You don't give me one. Your birthday present to me is always, "Lucky you, Artie! Haha! Happy Birthday! Your present is the treat of my glorious, heroic prescence! How old are you now, grandma?" Or something along those lines...

_**2.)**_ Whenever I am around you, I swear to the bloody heavens that my IQ drops by 40%. Seriously. I can't hold a mature conversation with you for five minutes without you switching the subject to how hungry you are or how heroic it is that you're there to save me from my own boring-ness or how awesome alien cowboys from Jupiter are the perfect solution to every world disaster. You're like talking to a two year old.  
>How you even function with that kind of logic I don't even know...<p>

_**3.)**_ When our conversation isn't directed towards your idiotic statements about yourself, it's full of seemingly endless cut-downs aimed at yours truly. How I'm SO old. And SO boring. I'll have you know, four human years really isn't much of a difference. And being an elder country only means that I have a great deal more experience than you. So HA. And the fact that I enjoy embroidering and tea definitely does NOT make me your grandmother, nitwit. Is it wrong to enjoy the peace and quiet? You know, when a certain American pest isn't there to disturb me? And I'd appreciate it if you held your comments about my eyebrows. Others tend to find them pretty attractive, thank you very much! And for your information, I'm only shorter than you by a couple centimeters. So... just shut it.

_**4.)**_ Pet names. Blimey, if I ever got ahold of the man who thought shortening Arthur to Artie was cute, I swear to God I'd turn his head over to Henry VIII. And I'll never forgive Kiku for giving you the idea of that preposterous-... er... what exactly IS an "Iggy" anyway?

_**5.)**_ You're so cheesy, it makes me want to vomit. All of your cliche American idioms and sayings and advice and jokes and actions(that are undoubtedly straight out of some popular Hollywood chick flick... or whatever it is you call it) are enough to drive a gentleman, such as myself, completely insane. They don't even begin make sense! An example of this idiocity is when we were at a meeting no longer than a month ago. It just ended, and Francis had walked up to me, spouting all that perverted nonsense that makes him, well... Francis. After a few minutes of yelling, he sank away into the dark hallway outside the meeting room, without a doubt off to seek another victim. And that's when you came up to me. What do you do then? Slap my back and exclaim, "Ahahaha! Don't worry, Iggy! There are plenty of fish in the sea!" First of all, that phrase has NEVER helped anyone with relationships. Second of all, BLOODY HELL, Alfred! You, of all people, know I never had a sliver of interest in that disgusting, perverted frog! If anything, your advice should have been directed towards Francis. Blast, are you really that blind to miss that I've always turned down the Frenchman, not only because I hate him, but because you-... nevermind. You aren't mature enough to handle that sort of information. And you'll never be. So forget it. I don't even know where that statement was coming from... ANYWAY, what was I saying again? Ah, yes. You and your annoying-ness. Have any clue as to the most annoying day of the year? Valentines. Precisely. Why? It's the day your stupid, cliche... EVERYTHING... reaches its peak. Could you do everyone a favour and NOT get anyone gifts this year? Please. We, especially myself, are all sick and tired of the cheap chocolates and stuffed animals and flowers that we have to find a way to dispose of each year without you noticing. If Valentines Day had any sentimental value at all, then I'm sure you'd put more thought into the gifts. But it doesn't. So just stop it.

_**6.)**_ You're so loud, I'm sure I've nearly lost my hearing. Obnoxious. You couldn't keep a secret, even if your bloody life depended on it. For example, take the time we went to the pub together a few years back. You remember that night, yes? I'd had an extremely rough week, and you had to drive me home that night. And if what you've told me is true (only God knows... all I remember is that the hangover the next day was living hell and you were still at my house that morning...), we... er... supposedly did some regretful things. Well, they shouldn't have been very regretful, except for the fact that you bragged about it to EVERYONE at the next meeting. Can you even imagine the disgusting, shameful things Francis said to me after all that?

_**7.)**_ ...Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I do not wish to celebrate your birthday because it's too painful? Because my heart wrenches each time I even think of this dreaded day? Because just two hundred years ago this morning you showed me how much you really care about me? After all these years, I thought maybe even a man as oblivious as you would pick up some sort of clue. Really. Are you that idiotically unobservant? Or do you just never take a moment to consider another's feelings? It's called betrayal, Alfred. Abandonment. I know what you're thinking this very moment. You're rolling your eyes. "Fuck, England! You're still thinking about that? Geez! Get over it and move on, old man!" is probably what you're saying right now. And most people agree with you. But you have to understand... I've never opened up to anyone really. And when the one person I thought I could trust does something so drastic, it hurts. Scars. Forever. But I don't even know why I bring up the subject since you'll never understand...

...S-so yeah, now you know. So d-don't ever ask again or pester me about it! Understood?...

And... um...

...

Well, see, Alfred, I didn't write this letter just to be mean to you on your birthday. Well, that was my intention at first, but... just... calm down about it okay?

And just know, that no matter how much I yell and nag and no matter how boisterous and ignorant and annoying you are, I don't really hate you. That much.

Oh, and...

_Happy Birthday._

Sincerely,  
>Oh what the bloody hell, you know who I am. I don't have to sign this shit.<p>

**PS:** I put your stupid present in your mailbox. Enjoy. And don't just throw it away without unwrapping it this time. I promise it's not socks this year.

_XOXOXO_

**PSPS**: Those don't represent hugs and kisses. Those... definitely represent scoldings and punches. Yes.

...Goddammit I've got to stop writing in permanent pen...

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